


No Porch Light on to Pull Me Home

by 2towels



Series: Hitchhiker's Guide to a Galaxy Family [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Coran is only mentioned), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Can be read stand-alone, Drifter Pidge, Drifters Hunk and Lance, Gen, Hitchhiking, Overly thought out decisions made by Allura, Platonic Relationships, a friendship and meeting fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 09:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2towels/pseuds/2towels
Summary: Allura cringed. They were too young for this business. The risk alone, at whatever age they might be, near tripled with stunts like that. Cautiously, she shut her car door again and walked through the parking lot, but her boots were not the quietest, and the scavenger flinched and glared at her as she approached.“Do you need to call your parents? You can borrow my phone, if you like.” Allura said immediately, setting her keys into her deep jacket pockets and fishing for her smartphone instead.To her surprise, round brown eyes (near masked by the light in giant framed glasses) glared at her in return. The glare moved to the device. “I'm eighteen, I'm not calling home.” Well. Their entire body turned to Allura then, sizing her up carefully and blatantly, “I need a ride.”---Allura finds Pidge outside of a gas station, where neither of them have a plan or destination.





	No Porch Light on to Pull Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Song from the title is [here!](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mIX1Pxb1IpQ) I think it's a really soft and beautiful song and was one of the first ones I added to Allura's playlist, as well as the playlist for this AU in general.
> 
> This takes place way before the first installment of this series, obviously not having met any of her little makeshift family yet. Pidge is the first friend she makes on the road, and Keith is the last, so it seemed like a good idea to slowly build a little background to Allura's business before I add the next segment, which is just more Klance stuff (there's always more Klance stuff).

          There was a mindlessness, after the first few hours, which came to driving that made it dangerous. When Allura had first received the keys to her beat up van, she had been warned in her father's gentle voice that long journeys were cleansing but only if they were executed correctly. When she was even younger, just a child that still remembered the face of her mother, her father had explained to her that death could be cleansing, too, but only if it came at the right time, and only if it was received properly.

          It was a confusing set of advice, especially spanned across so much time. What was 'right' in either of those situations? Regardless, the words rang mercilessly in her head.

          Her father had hated to be alone. Sometimes, deep into the night like she was, Allura remembered she did as well. Maybe Coran did, too, but she had never asked, and it was too late to now. She had made the decision fast and hard three days ago and she couldn't look back just yet, no matter how much it gnawed at her.

          Three days she had been traveling, but it had only been a few hours into those days before the motions of driving became numb and automatic. It was a dangerous feeling, whenever she became self-aware, knowing her mind had disconnected from the process of driving the clunky pink van she was beginning to call home. It was disorienting, and a few times already Allura had forced herself to pull over outside of her rest stop gas checks just to walk around and remember to breathe, thinking away from the automatic motions and wandering mind of hers.

          In three days, she had changed a lot, she supposed. Sleeping in parking lots, living off of borderline grotesque fast food and gas station snacks, and barely speaking above the whispers of lost lullabies and songs she hadn't heard in years. Voltron, her new home, puttered every now and then in a concerning way, but it was a steadfast comfort in Allura's predicament. If she had nothing else, she had a part of her new legacy with her in her travels.

          In the middle of the night with the radio low, Allura realized her numbness once more and made plans to park and wander, wonder, and wade. She had just stopped for gas an hour or two ago, but it wouldn't hurt to stop again at the upcoming station for some cold water. Maybe a friendly conversation would find her way, but by what she had been graced by from most gas station attendees, she hadn’t been lucky enough to run into one.

          The fenced in highway before her—cut through the mountains in a way that made her curious and sad when she thought on it—was winding and startlingly empty in the night. Even before and behind her, she seemed to be the only one on the road, looking at signs curiously for the name of the ghost town she was about to enter. As she turned off of the highway through the designated exit for the nearest gas station and rest stop, she was met by a glowing atmosphere with so little movement to it that she couldn't help but slow down and admire the lack of life within the new town. It was her third night, and cities in the dark still took her by surprise, tearing breaths from her no matter their appearance and reminding her of the way light could catch anything in the most beautiful way. The asphalt, the fast food chain it offered, the zombies of people wandering to or from home, the dashboard of her car….

          Allura slammed on the break as a blur of green ran in front of her on the road. Her wrist stopped just before the horn as she breathed, remembering it was too late in the night for such loud protests, even if it wasn't a residential district. When she looked after where the blur had gone, presumably into the donut shop or gas station she herself was about to pull towards, it was nowhere to be found.

          Voltron parked with a squeak, and Allura sucked in a hard breath as she added that to a mental list of things to be looked at eventually. She liked to keep things orderly, well used and tested, but it would be inconvenient to stop so long so early, and standing in one place for far too long would make her think things, especially as she watched an unfamiliar back pull out from the hood of her car.

          The inside of the gas station was humid and smelled like coffee; a staple of the atmosphere, she assumed. In the corner of the small store, she saw out of just the edge of her vision the look of a true wild scavenger, and when she looked to the counter she saw the unamused intolerance of an underpaid employee, staring resigned at the scavenger. They were crouched down, rooting through peanut butter jars.

          Allura wandered to the coolers lining the walls and watched the soft glow of the illuminated waters and sugary drinks for a moment, pocketing her hands into her plush bubble jacket and wondering what to get despite knowing she would choose water in the end. _Lifewater_ bottles were looking particularly interesting these days, almost to the point of being pretty, but they tasted disgusting, and she scanned for a Fiji bottle instead, aesthetics to be temporarily ignored.

          “Do you have _Skippy_?” A voice called, the scavenger in the orange and green hoodie. Allura glanced over her shoulder to watch their interaction as she bent to pick up a bottle of water from the lower racks. As her hair fell in her face, she had to restrain a grimace at the greasy feel of it against her cheeks. She would have to find a real hospitable place to sleep for the night soon and shower well there. “I only see _Jif_.”

          “No.” The clerk behind the counter grunted, straightening from his leaning down so he could stretch and lean his back against the line of cigarette cartridges instead.

          A clearly audible “ _Ugh._ ” came from the scavenger, who sauntered to the counter with a handful of granola bars instead. Allura was two steps behind them, watching curiously and unable to hide it as she fished in her pocket for her wallet. The scavenger counted change to pay for their goods, though they were clearly ignoring the folded bulk of their wallet where bills laid, and they left after refusing a bag, choosing instead to stuff the goods into their backpack and stalk out into the darkness of the city again.

          The clerk looked unaffected when Allura reached him, though he did give her a curious glance-over with attention he hadn’t seemed to possess before. As she paid, she offered him a soft, “Thank you.” for the transaction, and blinked in return when surprise took his expression at her accent. It happened every time, and was becoming an odd and noticeable pattern in Americans she'd met so far.

          Water in hand, Allura walked back to her van with her keys in-between each finger of her free hand, always taught to be prepared. She unlocked the door quietly, and was almost fully climbed in when she spotted the scavenger again, hunched low on the side of the road, and…waiting, it seemed. As a single car passed them, they threw themselves straighter and stuck their thumb into the air, but the car blazed past.

          Allura cringed. They were too young for this business. The risk alone, at whatever age they might be, near tripled with stunts like that. Cautiously, she shut her car door again and walked through the parking lot, but her boots were not the quietest, and the scavenger flinched and glared at her as she approached.

          “Do you need to call your parents? You can borrow my phone, if you like.” Allura said immediately, setting her keys into her deep jacket pockets and fishing for her smartphone instead.

          To her surprise, round brown eyes (near masked by the light in giant framed glasses) glared at her in return. “Are you driving the pink bus there?” They jerked their head towards Voltron.

          Allura hummed. “I am.” She wouldn't correct them, not for no reason, and held out her smartphone rather than offer the ride they seemed to be implying.

          The glare moved to the device. “I'm eighteen, I'm not calling home.” Well. Their entire body turned to Allura then, sizing her up carefully and blatantly, “I need a ride.”

          It wasn't as if Allura had never considered picking up hitchhikers before, but being faced so presently with the implication almost stumped her. She had passed, almost guiltily, many a person on the highway thus far, knowing in strength alone she could take care of more than a few of them if things got nasty but not quite liking the risk. This was different, however, and this person was most definitely not a threat. If anything, Allura was a threat to this child. Eighteen seemed like a stretch of a lie.

          “That's nice.” She said carefully, knowing she was sounding overly friendly but unsure how to compensate for her assumption of their age, “Where to?”

          “I don't know yet.” They said, holding firm eye contact with Allura the entire time she decided.

          How could she keep from offering when their destinations were the same? “Alright then. Let's get going.” She said carefully and sauntered away with a tenseness, watching the scavenger crawl into the other side of her van once she had unlocked it and immediately devour a granola bar from their bag. By the time she had turned over the engine, ignored her new companion's curious look at the sound Voltron made as it did so, and pulled out of the parking lot, she looked to introduce herself, but found the scavenger fitfully and tentatively asleep.

          Mindless driving came again easily, though Allura's wandering thoughts had much more to do with the new “eighteen year old” sitting next to her. Fairly, she knew she should decide on a destination for the comfort of both of them, that way they weren't stuck on deciding whether she was a kidnapper or anything similarly strange. Another part of her wondered heavily on the scavenger’s age, and wondered if she should have called the police instead of what was conspiring currently. Her three days of aimless gas wasting had brought her near Louisiana, if she was mapping things correctly in her head, but the states always confused her as she learned them as a child. It would be nice to see Florida, and maybe stop by Disney World or something similar, but she was sure her companion wasn't as well funded as she was if their change counting at the gas station was anything to go by. She would keep an eye on the local news to see if the scavenger was a runaway if she could, and that seemed to be the most comforting decision she could come to for herself.

          They would go to the beach. That sounded nice enough. A nice Georgian beach, if the scavenger asked, and then they would decide something from there if they were still hitching with her.

          From the cup holder, Allura saw the flash of her cell phone and heard its soft vibration on the hard plastic, but knew it was another text and was content on ignoring the contact for the time being.

 

* * *

 

          Five hours later, at the edge of Mississippi when her water had long since depleted, Allura relented for her aching stomach and decided to pull into the parking lot of a McDonalds, harshly lit in the dim morning. It was near sunrise, and her companion had only stirred once or twice before resettling in the long car ride. They must have been tired, with that level of easy sleeping in a jumpy car, but she wanted to be sure that the scrawny looking teenager had something proper to eat, and so she parked and made to wake them up.

          As soon as her hand touched the shoulder of her new passenger, a shrill alarm rang out, and Allura jerked back as the scavenger flailed into wakefulness.

          “What?” They snapped immediately, screaming over the still ringing alarm and not meeting Allura's wide-eyed gaze as they fiddled with a device in their pocket.

          Allura said nothing, watching the perplexing teen swear under their breath as she softly cupped her own ears when the alarm hadn’t yet stopped. It was easy for her to recognize a good invention when she saw one, though she wasn't quite in the market for scouting for such things currently, and she couldn't bring herself to be offended or too far off put by the strange alarming system that had kicked in the second her companion had been touched. It was genius for somebody in their position.

          “What?” The scavenger snapped again, rolling up their orange sleeves and raking a hand through their wild brown hair before they got back to fiddling. Finally, blissfully, the shrill alarm stopped assaulting their ears, and Allura felt her own shoulders release all tension as theirs did.

          As they looked around the parking lot, turning every which way in their seat to see the yellow building behind them, Allura finally asked, “What is your name?”

          The intense brown eyes didn't stray into Allura's line of sight again. “I'll have an apple pie and a large fry.” They mumbled instead of an answer, allowing their tiny fingers to thread through wires in their hands attached to their alarm idly.

          “That's nice,” Allura began impatiently, “but I'm sure that's not your name. Is there anything I can call you?” _The scavenger_ didn't seem like it would suffice for long.

          Awareness came slowly to their eyes, their gaze touching down on the flock of pigeons enjoying a fallen batch of fries a few feet from the nearest garbage can. They hummed. “My name's Pidge. Yours?” There was a weariness to their voice, and Allura knew without any indicator that they were most certainly lying, but wasn't overly concerned with their name so much as what they were comfortable with.

          “I'm Allura.” She said, slipping out of her seat and hopping out of the van. “An apple pie and french-fries?”

          Pidge scrambled out of the car at a surprising rate, tugging off their sweatshirt and shoving it into their backpack. Allura noted, with dull interest, them adjusting their bra straps as they walked through the parking lot to the McDonalds entrance, and had a realization she hadn't known she'd been waiting for.

          “What the _fuck_ ,” Pidge began mercilessly, “kind of McDonalds isn't open twenty-four hours? Where _are_ we?” The incredulity in her voice was almost amusing, and she pulled her phone from her deep pockets before Allura could even provide a verbal answer, hand still poised on the locked door as Pidge began tapping away.

          “I suppose we could just follow the strip and see what else we run into.” Allura mused, rocking on her heels a little and glancing back at her van, “We're in Mississippi.”

          The younger girl glanced around the rest of the complex with disinterest, a thought process obvious in her assessing eyes before she finally glanced back at Allura. “It looks like there's a Denny's down there.” Her voice had a soft huff to it as she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her cargo shorts, and Allura ignored her frustration in favor of beginning to walk down that way.

          “I'm sure they'll have apple pie, as well.” She heard Pidge follow without having to turn, “Or, well, some similar dessert. They're also twenty-four hours, right?”

          “Where are you from?” Instead of answering, Pidge jogged to keep pace with Allura's brisk walk and watched the woman.

          They passed a dimmed Wine & Spirits and an equally dark Goodwill store before Allura glanced back at Pidge's stare and gave a short laugh. “North.” She answered dismissively, shaking her head and squinting as the Denny's came closer into view.

          As they approached the doors to the diner, Allura ignored Pidge's continued curious stare expertly and eyed another pair nearing the doors instead. Two young men, both deeply tanned and exhausted looking, were chatting. Despite the distance between them still, it was easy for Allura to see the deep bags under the boys' eyes and the enthusiasm of which they were speaking to one another. On either of their backs they held heavy looking bags, stuffed to almost bursting. The lankier of the two, with a grin on his face when he spotted Allura's gaze, jogged forward to reach the door before them and threw it open for her and Pidge. His eyes were alight, though his face was greasy and his hair disheveled.

          “After you, milady and little milady.” He purred, propping the door against his hip to sweep his arm through the door in invitation for them. Pidge made a sound reminiscent of vomiting in the back of her throat, but Allura's gaze hardened at the sight of the boy's arm. Under the rows of woven bracelets was a thick white bandage, wrapped a few times over the same spot and still bleeding through the bindings.

          “You should dress that properly.” She nodded towards his arm, pulling her hands from her pockets to point at it better. When he blinked in confusion, she nodded to his arm again to re-emphasize her point and turned to his friend, a larger man standing just a few feet from Pidge with his brows deeply furrowed, his earlier warm smile lost.

          Instinctively, Allura set her hand between Pidge's shoulder blades and guided the smaller girl through the door and away from the two strangers. “Your arm.” She said when she realized the door man still looked confused, “You're bleeding through your bandaging.”

          He dropped the door in an instant, throwing his arm out of view and averting his eyes, though Allura had the feeling it wasn't from herself so much as it was from his friend. When Allura glanced back at the larger man, she noted his clear worry and realized he wasn't in much better shape, with a thick pad of gauze taped carefully to the skin just above his temple. His hair was swept back from it by a thin orange ribbon, and it looked as if it were much better taken care of than his friend's.

          “I have the first aid kit.” The larger boy said quickly when the door man dropped his backpack to open a zipper.

          He seemed frustrated. “It's probably fine.” Ribbon Man dropped his backpack beside his friend's, and Allura felt like a third wheel, glancing at Pidge through the door window to find her sitting on the bench indoors and playing on her phone.

          “Move out from in front of the door.” Allura found herself instructing, “Sit on the little garden wall here and unwind that. Let me see your first aid kit.”

          The boys blinked at her before shuffling into position. Door Man was looking increasingly embarrassed, but did as he was told while Ribbon Man moved their bags and rifled through one for a clear plastic box of first aid supplies.

          “Are you a doctor?” Ribbon Man asked as Allura flicked through the items in the box. She hummed in response, not wanting to discuss it much—or at all, really—and instead focusing on the newly exposed wound on Door Man's arm. It was a twisted sort of cut, with a few jagged edges and curling over the side of his wrist strangely. She decided not to ask.

          “Can you remove these bracelets?” She asked instead, “You're going to get them all bloody and they're likely carrying tons of bacteria.”

          Door Man squawked, “Of course I can't! They're friendship bracelets, they're supposed to get gross.”

          “Lance...” Ribbon Man began, not looking at his friend when Allura glanced at him again. He never finished his thought, so Allura went to work shoving the bracelets as far as she could away from the wound and dabbing at it with a wad of napkins Ribbon Man had handed her. Lance hissed like a child and winced along, and she ignored him.

          “You must have just irritated it.” Allura explained, noting it wasn't bleeding so much as it was cleaned. “However, it does look like you need stitches. You should go to the hospital.” She laid her hand on his wrist around the wound and moved to turn it for him, to look at the tail ends of it, but flinched back when Lance howled in pain.

          When she glanced up at him there was water in his eyes and he was straining to look away from his friend as far as he could. “I knew it was broken!” Ribbon Man exclaimed, rushing to get into Lance's line of vision again.

          Allura stepped away from the boys completely to look in the first aid kit again. “I'm going to wrap it so it's not exposed, but you're going to need to go to the hospital, unfortunately. It’s likely fractured, but it could just be a sprain.” She knew she didn't sound particularly apologetic or friendly as would be appropriate of a bedside manner, but she wasn't necessarily interested in their story so much as she wanted to make sure they knew they needed proper care.

          “A hospital.” Lance groaned, spine straightening and another hiss falling from his lips as Allura touched his wrist again. “Thank you.” The words came out exhaustedly and without any forefront as she began wrapping the wound for him, and his tone was so surprising in comparison to the earlier jovial (and flirtatious) nature that she was drawn to glance up.

          His quiet friend sat beside him and sighed, but Lance threw his good arm around him with a new cheer to his voice before Allura could respond. “Don't look so glum, Hunk.” He rubbed his cheek into Hunk's shoulder as Allura went back to wrapping, “I'll get a doctor to look at my leg too, and it’ll be fine.”

          Hunk didn't seem convinced, and Allura let her gaze blandly roam over his legs to see any sign of problems taking care of wounds there, either. “You brought your insurance information and everything, right? Should we go home?”

          “Ab-so-lute-ly not.” Lance said firmly, grin pulling at his lips. “Yes, I have everything we need but if you think we're heading back so soon you are sorely mistaken. How's it lookin', pretty lady?”

          Realizing he was talking to her again, Allura scowled and corrected him, “That is not my name. I am Allura and your arm will be fine.”

          “Thank you, Allura.” Hunk said sincerely, shoving the loose items on the flower bed wall back into the first aid kit and standing to scoop up their backpacks.

          Lance moved his arm delicately when Allura released it and turned it carefully to see all its angles. When something within him was satisfied, he sent Allura another grin and pushed all of his bracelets back into place, rubbing at the indentations they had made on his arm from being so tight around where they had sat out of place. “Maybe we'll see you around, grab some coffee sometime.” His voice had another purr to it, and Allura pulled open the door for herself to the diner finally and shook her head.

          “I don't think so. Good luck.” When she saw Lance wink and Hunk slap his good arm away from the book bag he had been carrying before, she turned fully and joined Pidge inside finally.

          When Pidge stood, the first thing she did was glance behind Allura before looking up at her. “Give me your phone number.” She pushed her phone (a curiously expensive model, Allura noted) into Allura's manicured fingers and waved at a waitress from across the dining room.

          “All set?” The waitress said when she approached at light speed, “Just two?”

          “Yup.” Pidge answered when Allura handed the phone back with her number added. When they were being led to their seats, she shoved her giant glasses off of her face to rest atop her head. “I thought you were kidnapped or something, I hate eating alone.”

          They both ordered waters as they sat, and the waitress danced away to retrieve them after leaving two menus for them. “Certainly that would be the largest worry if I was kidnapped.” She couldn’t help but laugh, feeling warmer than she had in admittedly days with all the socializing.

          “I mean, yeah, I don't know you so…lose my ride and have to eat alone.” Pidge answered easily, shrugging along with the statement. Her tiny hands flipped through the menu straight to the desserts, and Allura distractedly scanned the options while she tried to remember what it was she had been craving an hour or two ago.

          “Fair. I suppose having my number now will just let you have a brief double-check when you think I've been put in danger.” It was probably nachos.

          “Or ditched me at a gas station or something. Where are you going, anyway?”

          When Allura glanced up, their waters were set in front of them and Pidge was staring at her. “Georgia. Is that alright?” Glancing at the waitress, she added, “I'll have a half plate of nachos and a strawberry milkshake.”

          “It’s fine. Do you always help random strangers?” Pidge’s stare was unrelenting, it seemed, putting together pieces Allura was unaware of the contents of.

          She hummed, “My father taught me to be sociable to those in need.”

          “Cool.” The intense gaze left, and Pidge asked the waitress, “I'll have a slice of apple pie. Do you know what brand peanut butter you use for your peanut butter milkshakes?”

          Whatever brand Pidge had been looking for, she was disappointed by the lack of it and ordered a plain chocolate shake instead. When Allura felt the buzzing in her pocket, she retrieved her smartphone expecting to see a message from Pidge considering the new contact, but instead it buzzed again to alert her continuously of a call.

          _Coran_ flashed across the screen.

          She slowly slid the red phone icon and replaced the device in her pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always taking drabble requests on [my tumblr!](http://2towels.tumblr.com)
> 
> If any of you guys follow me there or read some of my last stories you might know that I said I was going to work on gay hair braiding next (haha Emme someday), but I found this draft completely finished and half edited? So I just finished editing it really fast and posted it while I had it so I didn't forget again. (I really didn't remember writing anything past...the McDonald's scene. It was very weird welp)


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